Bend
by adangeli
Summary: This was going to mean more surgery. AU. Part 7 of the In Washington Series.


He was running.

A sharp pain.

He was stumbling, falling, screaming through clenched teeth, then encouraging Sam to continue pursuit of the suspect rather than stopping for him. She slowed down, he saw her look, but she continued on.

Half an hour later he had pulled himself to sit against the building and she was marching a handcuffed Paul Jennings down the sidewalk towards him. Jennings looked at him with a sneer but Carter looked at him with a curiosity that was barely contained. She made a motion with her head towards their SUV and he nodded. She'd come back for him once she'd secured the prisoner.

Four minutes, maybe five and he saw their SUV pull up against the curb right in front of him. Thank god. He tried to pull himself up, but the pain was intense. He sat back down, hard, the sting in his ass from the impact just another thing to add to the list of his injuries: his ass, his knee, his pride.

She was standing in front of him, blotting out the sun, her hands on her hips, her head tilted to the side a little like she did when she was trying to figure him out. "So... what happened?"

"My knee."

"Your knee?"

"I zigged, it zagged."

"Ouch."

"That's an understatement, Carter."

"Want me to help you up?"

No, he damn well didn't want his hot-ass, young, partner to help him up after he blew out his knee. Again. "Yes, please." This was going to mean more surgery. Which would mean more Teal'c.

Gently, she helped him rise and then she was at his side, tucking one arm around his waist and drawing his arm over her shoulders. She kept a hold of his wrist as they walked, slowly, to the SUV. He tried, he really did, not to get a rise out of being so close to her. But it was useless. The more time passed the more he was susceptible to her.

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

"After-"

"After we book Jennings, yes," she said with exasperation and more than a little worry that probably had something to do with the fact that he wasn't protesting going to the hospital.

In all actuality, he waited in the car while she booked Jennings and did the required paperwork. It took her an hour. He played Candy Crush on his phone. When she plunked herself back down in the driver's seat she looked tired. He looked at his dash and realized they'd been at it for fifteen hours.

"Drop me off at the emergency room," he all but ordered.

She snorted. "Right."

"Sam-"

"I'm not just going to leave you at the hospital."

"I've been through this before."

"So?"

"So, I know what they're going to tell me. Surgery. Physical therapy."

"And that means I shouldn't stay with you?"

"Carter-"

"Jack."

He relented. Secretly, he was pleased she wanted to stay. "Fine." He was always pleased when he got to spend time with her. Even last month when she'd broken down and they'd had that conversation that had ended uncomfortably. He remembered the conversation fondly, though, because he remembered the way she'd looked at him. A couple of times he'd been sure he'd seen real desire on her face.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He hadn't been wrong. The meniscus was torn and required surgery. He'd be off his feet for a few weeks and doing rehab for even longer. But, it could have been worse. As it was, Carter was worrying over him and he'd already called both Teal'c – his physical therapist – and Daniel – his friend – to tag her out from time to time. Because she didn't seem all that inclined to, well, leave him alone.

The surgery was outpatient, but due to his history with these knee issues, he was admitted to the hospital overnight. He'd get the surgery tomorrow and then be on his way home.

"Carter, go home," he said for the sixth time.

"I will," she said idly but didn't look up from the literature the first nurse – who had been sure Sam was his girlfriend – had handed her on knee surgery options.

"You can read those at home, from the comfort of your couch," he cajoled.

"Why are you trying to get rid of me?" she demanded, looking up at him suddenly, hurt in her eyes.

He gentled his tone. "I'm not trying to get rid of you. I just know hospitals are no fun. And I'm going to need you tomorrow to drive me home." Actually, no, Daniel would do that, but he had the rather ego-boosting feeling it would hurt her if he got someone else to do it. Besides, he wasn't sure what Daniel's schedule was this semester. For all he knew, he'd have to wait until his lecture was out to catch a ride home. Sam was the better option all around. And not just because he liked looking at her better.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You'll call me if you need anything?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Or if something happens before morning?"

He smothered a smile. "Yes ma'am."

"Or if you're bored and-"

"Sam! I've been through this before." He took a risk and reached for her hand. She clasped onto him quickly. "I'm fine. I hurt, but I'm fine. If I told you not to bother coming back until after the surgery tomorrow?"

"You'd be wasting your breath," she assured him with a slight squeeze to his hand.

"That's what I thought." But it warmed him inside to be cared about. He'd blown his knee out on Ferretti's watch and the man had stopped over with some beer a week after the surgery, but aside from that, Jack had dealt with his injury in the company of Daniel – who hovered like a mother – and Teal'c. So, this was, well, nice. Nice like it had been with Sara before... well, just before.

"Do you need anything before I go?" She bit her lip, shifted her weight to the balls of her feet as if prepared to spring towards whatever he may desire.

"I'm fine," he reiterated. "Go home. Get some rest." He realized he was still holding her hand, but he wasn't turning her loose until she pulled.

She looked down at their hands and rubbed her thumb across his knuckles. "You're sure?"

"Yeah."

She pulled her hand from his almost reluctantly. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Before you go in."

He smiled at her. "Okay."

"Goodnight, Jack."

"Goodnight."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

God, his knee hurt like a sonuvabitch – and that was with the post-surgery painkillers. He groaned as he settled himself down into Sam's little car and tried not to notice the way she winced at the sound. "We'll be home soon," she tried to reassure him.

He gritted his teeth and nodded.

She threw the car into gear and maneuvered out of the circular drive at the outpatient pick-up and onto the first of many congested roads that would finally take him home. She was quiet and he was thankful. Not that she was generally a chatterbox, but he wasn't sure he could hold up his end of a conversation.

It took them twenty minutes to drive the five and a half miles to his townhouse. Sam parked out front and then hurried around to his side of the car to help him out. He hated accepting her help because he thought it made him look weak, but he also knew that if he shrugged her off he'd be stupidly doing more than he should as well as pissing her off, if not outright hurting her feelings. So, he accepted the hand she outstretched for him and shifted his weight so that his good leg and her body did the bulk of the work holding him up.

Halfway across the sidewalk to his front door he heard the car lock with its little honk behind them. It wasn't that he'd thought for a moment that she wasn't going to stay a while, but the reminder that she was going to was nice to have. Especially when he felt like such shit.

In truth, he was probably going to go to bed and sleep for a while. There was absolutely no need for her to stay while he slept. Except that he wanted her to. Besides, he was sort of looking forward to her meeting Daniel who was going to be stopping by at some point that afternoon. He really thought the two of them would get along famously.

"You want to lie down?" she asked him as they navigated through his front door.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Let's get you settled. Then I'll run out for your prescriptions. Maybe pick up something to eat for when you get up?"

At his bedroom door he shifted aside to let her shoulder in first. He shuffled in just behind her, attached to her as he was. When he sat on the edge of the bed, she immediately dropped to her knees to remove his shoes. The pain was strong enough that he wasn't too taken by the image of her kneeling in front of him. She helped him maneuver under the covers and then smoothed the blankets up over his chest, her hand lingering there against his sternum.

"What would you like to eat?"

"I don't care."

"Animal or vegetable?"

"Pizza?"

She smiled indulgently and it socked him in the gut, the way she looked at him sometimes. "Okay. Need anything else while I'm out?"

For her to pack a bag and come stay? "No. Drugs and food. Sounds good." He relaxed back into his pillow and closed his eyes, even if he would much rather just keep looking at her.

"Where are your house keys?" she asked him quietly.

"Oh." He fumbled around in his pocket, pulled out his key ring, and handed it to her.

"I'll be back soon. Call if you need anything while I'm out."

"Pretty sure I'll be asleep, Carter," he said, but he was sure to keep a playful note in his voice.

"I'll be back soon." She sounded reluctant to leave him.

"I'll be fine."

"Okay. Bye."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When he woke up he could hear voices in his living room, and not of the television variety. It did funny things to his insides, the feeling of being surrounded by people who cared. He needed to get up. But he either needed his cane or someone to lean on. And considering he needed the bathroom, he'd take the cane, thank you. But he didn't know where it had ended up.

"Sam?" he called out, his voice barely carrying. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Sam?"

A few moments later the voices stopped and then, after that, she appeared in the doorway. "You're awake."

"Yeah."

"How're you feeling?"

"In pain."

"I'd guess so, you've been sleeping for quite a while. You're going to be due for pain meds in about twenty minutes. I was going to wake you."

"I'm up," he said as jovially as he could muster considering how he was feeling. "And I need my cane."

"Oh!" She turned on her heels and must have flown down the hall because she returned in record time with his cane. "Sorry."

"For what? Not anticipating my every need? Carter, give yourself a break."

She blushed. "Daniel is here."

"I thought I heard him."

"He brought doughnuts from that place you like. And I bought bake at home pizza I can put in the oven whenever you're ready."

"Bathroom, meds, food," he said.

She smiled at him. "Okay." She gave him one last look and then disappeared.

He took care of things in the bathroom, leaning far more heavily on his cane than he remembered from last time. When he limped out to the living room he found Sam curled up on the couch, facing Daniel, a brilliant smile on her face and a glass of wine in her hand. She must've found the wine rack. Daniel was looking besotted and holding his own glass of wine. Jack frowned at the tableau. This wasn't quite what he'd wanted.

Sam must have heard him come in because she looked at him, the remnants of her Daniel smile still on her face for a moment before she popped up. "I left your ginger ale in the car. I'll go get it."

He hadn't asked for ginger ale, but he did like it. And he wasn't supposed to drink on the painkillers. He thought it was nice that she thought of it.

"So, that's Sam," Daniel said, a twitchy smile tugging at his lips.

Uh-oh. "Yeah."

"She's… pretty great."

"Yeah…"

"And pretty… pretty."

"Daniel," Jack growled.

"You didn't mention that," Daniel pointed out. "You said young. You said smart. You said great personality. You did not say pretty."

Jack glared and limped towards the easy chair.

"She's not that young," Daniel said next. "She's got to be, my age?"

"You're young too."

"I'm fourteen years younger than you," Daniel said with exasperation.

"And she's two years younger than that."

The front door opened and Jack silenced Daniel with a glare. He knew exactly where the younger man was going with that line of conversation. And while he could appreciate the sentiment, and while he wanted what Daniel was selling, he wasn't going to make a move on his partner. No matter how pretty she was…

"So," Daniel said as the two men listened to the sounds of Sam putting the soda in the refrigerator and then putting the pizza in the oven, "you blew out your knee again."

"Obviously."

"How bad was it this time?"

"Same."

"Teal'c?"

"Starting Thursday."

Daniel nodded. "He's gonna like her."

"Everybody likes her."

"Including you?"

"Shut up, Daniel."

Daniel just grinned and took a sip of his wine.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam drove Jack to his first physical therapy appointment and he invited her in because he knew Daniel had likely already reported back to Teal'c and that the physical therapist would be anxious to meet her. Not to mention it would be kind of rude to ask her to wait in the car or to drop him off and come back to get him in forty five minutes.

Teal'c didn't waste a moment. Sam walked in behind Jack and Teal'c was extending a hand to her immediately. "You must be Sam, I'm Teal'c."

Sam took his hand with a bright smile. "That's an unusual name," she said, tipping her head to the side in that way she had that Jack liked.

"Mom's favorite color, dad wanted an apostrophe, c was the first letter that sounded right," he rattled off as if he'd done it before. And Jack knew he had, at least once when Jack himself had made the comment.

"Very original," Sam said with a nod, like it had her seal of approval.

"Yeah, but I never find my name preprinted on anything," the big man said with a wink that made Sam giggle.

It occurred to him that both Daniel and Teal'c were already treating Sam like she was the new girlfriend rather than the not-so-new partner. And it made him apprehensive. He wished he trusted either man not to embarrass him, but he didn't. Not because they were bad guys, but because they meant well and they wanted happiness for him. They'd both known him when he was married, so they knew that's what Jack liked.

But if the guys were treating Sam like the girlfriend, she either didn't notice or didn't mind, because she was loose and easy in a way that gave the impression that she was very comfortable with both men. She was acting, even, like she had enjoyed meeting people who were part of his life. He wondered if he'd been, perhaps, playing his cards just a little too close to his chest. If he could have been sharing a deeper connection with her for far longer.

Not that he was making a move on his partner.

He had to remind himself of that. A little too often, really.

"C'mon, O'Neill," Teal'c said, clapping Jack on the shoulder and easing his frayed nerves that Teal'c was about to say something that would tilt Jack's relationship with Sam, "let's get started."

Teal'c put him through his paces. The exercises hurt like he knew they would, but he also knew that holding back would just impede progress and he didn't want to be down for the count any longer than he needed to be.

When they were done Teal'c offered to show Sam how to help Jack with his exercises at home. Jack knew he blushed instantly and interjected, "I know what to do. Besides, Carter's got better things to do than-"

But she was shooting him a look that any formerly married man would be able to interpret as shut up. So he did.

He waited while Teal'c got a pamphlet for her and then walked her through the ways she could use her hands to support the joint while Jack moved – and the thought of having her hands on him was enough to remind him that she absolutely wasn't going to be helping him with his PT.

When it was all over, Jack shot Teal'c a dirty look and when he got a wink back in return, he knew that Teal'c was up to something. Probably with Daniel as backup.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She stuck by him through his convalescence. Sure, she'd had to work – and that rankled him knowing that she was out there, working, without her partner to watch her back – but she spent most of her downtime either with him or doing for him.

They were sitting in his living room one evening going over some case files, him with a cup of coffee, her with a glass of the white wine that had been a party favor from his sister's second wedding, when she set the file down on the couch cushions between them and turned to him. "I think I'm done for the night."

He tried not to show his disappointment. It was only seven and the thought of spending four hours alone just wasn't sitting well with him.

"Is there anything at all on TV tonight?"

He looked over at her, shocked. She was going to just... stay with him?

"There's always something on TV, Carter. I've got eight hundred channels."

"A hundred of which are sports, another hundred of which are music, and... no, you're right, that's still a damn lot of channels."

"Turner Classic Movies?" He knew she had a thing for old black and whites, even if they weren't his particular favorites.

"Sure," she said.

He flipped the television on and then scrolled to the correct channel. They were playing an old Lucille Ball comedy and he figured that was as good as anything. Within minutes, Sam was laughing. She was settling back into the couch, cradling her glass of wine against her chest and toeing off her shoes so she could curl her feet up underneath her.

He had a pang of longing so sharp that it caused him to gasp.

"Your knee?" she asked, turning towards him quickly.

"Yeah," he ground out, his eyes locked on her.

"Want some ice? You really went hard in PT today..."

"Uh-"

"I'll get some," she said, standing up.

While she was in the kitchen making up a bag of ice for him that he didn't need, he reflected on the past couple of weeks they'd had together. He wasn't going to lie to himself, it had felt very domestic. And he liked it. A lot. He liked it in general and he liked it specifically with this woman.

It had been a while since he'd really considered being in a relationship again and now that he could picture it, it was with someone he considered basically off limits. One didn't just start messing around with their partner. If the partnership went sour, so did the relationship. Likewise the other way around. And he didn't want to risk it.

Or did he? Was his partnership more important than his personal life? They could always ask to be reassigned to other people. But she'd bear a stigma then, that he never would. She'd be the woman who fell for her partner and she'd wear a scarlet letter in the precinct for that. Besides, if he wasn't her partner, he'd have to trust someone else to watch her back. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

She reappeared a moment later with a dishtowel in one hand and a gallon zipper bag of ice in the other. "Knee up," she said.

He dutifully propped his foot up on the coffee table. She took her time arranging the bag and towel properly on his bent knee before asking, "How's that?"

"It's good. Thank you."

"Sure," she said with smile. She picked her wine back up and curled cozily into the couch once more.

Dammit. He wanted her, and not just in the in-his-bed way, though he really did. He wanted her in his life. He wanted to come home to her. He wanted to see her stuff from her pretty little light blue apartment intermixed with his things. He wanted... everything.

Her eyes were riveted to the television screen, nonethewiser about his revelations. Which was probably a good thing. She may look at him with something akin to desire from time to time, but that was a whole different bailiwick than the everything he was jonesing for. He needed to get some space, some perspective, but he didn't want to cause her to step back because he enjoyed her closeness too much.

He'd known she was trouble when he met her – walking into the precinct in her motorcycle boots.

"You need anything?" she asked him, and he realized he'd been staring at her. She smiled at him so warmly, so openly that he had to physically stop himself from reaching for her.

"Not a thing," he lied. "Not a thing."


End file.
